


A Cold End

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Sad Ending, Suicide, Undead, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean, pessimist and Marco, optimist fail at enduring the zombie apocalypse and meet their demise after a fatal error in judgement is made on Jean's behalf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cold End

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a short one shot that I decided to pull off of my fanfiction.net account and rewrite. It's 7 a.m. and I pulled an all nighter and I am tired so sorry if this is a drabble. Expect all of the angst!  
> I listened to Cold by Five Finger Death Punch when writing this.  
> I also have a Tumblr----> http://stonerbabe69420.tumblr.com/  
> Happy reading and please let me know what you think!  
> Thanks,  
> Brit.

Jean fidgeted on his horse, Red. They had been riding for hours and still hadn't found anywhere safe enough to set up camp and rest. The world was a cruel empty place now; you never knew when you would draw your last breath. The shaggy blonde pulled the binoculars up to peer through them, noticing a band of walkers several hundred feet ahead of them. He cursed under his breath before letting the instrument fall back around his neck. He turned to face his partner, Marco who was riding behind him. Jean took a few seconds to look over the other male. He was fairly tall and tan with blotches of freckles covering his body. They were so different, yet so similar.

An optimist. The last thing that should have survived the apocalypse was optimism. Jean and Marco clashed on most decisions. Marco had a habit of looking at things like they were going to get better, like one day everything would go back to normal. Like one day, all the dead would just snap out of it and go back to their boring lives. He liked to stop and notice the scenery and say prayers for the dead. Stop and risk his life to bury someone he didn’t even know. He was gentle and caring and those traits were only good for one thing out here, getting killed.

A pessimist. Consequence and scenario had turned Jean into a cold hearted, bitter realist. He judged most scenarios by the worst possible outcome and normally planned for it to happen. At this point, he wasn’t afraid to die. But he was afraid for Marco, afraid that the last good person on this fucking earth would die a miserable, meaningless death. If it weren’t for Marco, Jean wouldn’t be alive. So many times, he wanted to leave this god forsaken version of the world they once knew. But Marco…Marco made the sun shine and the cold world comforting. 

Despite the major difference, there were a couple instances that drew the two together. The end of the world, of course had a large part of this. They made a good team, Marco being accurate with a gun and Jean’s force with blunt objects. Most fights usually ended in Jean consoling Marco, telling him he wasn’t a bad person for killing a zombie. For killing a monster. There was a certain…love between the pair. But it’s not plausible in a world like this. The emotions are principally ignored.

Neither of them could remember where they were when the apocalypse started. The moments you think are the most important…turn out to be meaningless. The beginning comes and goes and nothing is different. How it started doesn’t change the fact that it did. It’s the middle. The middle that makes the story good. The middle that ruins the story all together. The middle is the fucking part that makes or breaks a story. It’s not the beginning or the end that matters. None of that matters in a world like this because nothing can change the fact that it’s happening. This life is all about struggling for a better middle.

 

"Hey we've got trouble up ahead. I think we should try to force our way through this one. It doesn't look like they're too agile." He looked down at his hands and tightened his grip on the reins, fatigued and tired of riding. They needed to find somewhere to bunk before night fell. The creatures were more mobile at night and it was easier to be ambushed or cornered. 

"Jean, are you sure? Last time we did that, we lost..." Everyone. Times were grim and if you didn't make the right choice every time, you could end up getting your friends or yourself killed. The pair had learned this the hard way when Jean made an executive decision to handle a group of the monsters and it had backfired, ending in them losing the rest of their group.

"I get it, I'm well aware that we lost people. This time is different though. Got it?" A resentful tone clung to Jean’s voice and lingered in the air, his voice was full of regret. Regret that he sent his friends to an early grave. Fucked up and lost most of the people he had become close to. But once again, you can’t dwell on ends. 

"I just worry. You haven't been the same since...I don't want you to get ahead of yourself, Jean. Please just slow down." Marco was pleading now. Pleading that the man he loved stop rushing, stop pushing. If he would think his decisions through, he would be an excellent leader. He cared deeply for Jean and expressed his feelings openly. Whenever the topic came up, Jean brushed it off. It wasn’t love, it was the lack of women and the excessive amount of time they spent together. Jean knew it was a lie. He knew that Marco was in love with him. He loved Marco as well but the feelings were shoved to the depths of his mind, only showing them rarely.

He wanted to find somewhere safe where they didn't have to run anymore. He needed the perfect middle that turned into a perfect end with Marco.

"Just chill, Marco. We're coming up on them now so stay sharp." He commanded with a stern voice, before kicking his horse into a dead run. There were about thirty walkers who were acting very lethargic from lack of nourishment. It was foolish to go head on into battle most of the time but these ones seemed to be dormant. The trail didn’t leave much of an option either, drop offs on either side. Unsheathing his sword, Jean swung through the crowd. Disconnecting heads from bodies, stabbing and slicing at the rotting corpses that brought themselves close. His goal was to clear a path for Marco, He felt obligated to watch over his partner. He didn't exactly understand why but he knew he had to. 

Everything he did came down to protecting Marco. Things were going smoothly, well even. Jean neared the end of the crowd when he heard Marco's horse let out a distressed shriek. He stopped his horse and turned around to see Marco's horse tumble to the ground and send it's rider to the dust to become swarmed by a couple strays that were left behind. Kicking the horse as hard as he could, Jean returned to his fallen comrade and swiftly dismounted, pulling walkers away from Marco. He looked at his partner quickly to see him grab his neck and moan in pain. A walker grabbed onto Jean's arm and startled him back into fight mode. He swung his sword at its head, slicing right through the damned’s mouth. The splintering of its jawbone easily cracking and the head plopping to the ground was enough to sicken the strongest soldier. Another walker approached and he shoved the sword through its skull, twisting before pulling it back out. The sight was ghastly and bloody, Jean was in a killing rage. Any zombie that dare approached them was quickly eliminated. The last one that was left was subject to Jean slicing it just under the knees, crippling it before slicing it at the neck. When they were all dead, the sword fell to the ground with a clank. Jean fell shortly after, crawling exhaustively to his companion’s side. 

"Marco, what happened? Are you okay?" Jean's hands were shaking; he took a few long drawn out breaths as an attempt to calm himself down. He then glanced at his friend's horse which clearly had a broken leg. It was moaning in pain and out of pity, Jean stood up and walked over to it. Staring in the animal’s eyes he pulled his revolver out of the holster and held it flesh against the horse’s skull and pulled the trigger. There was a dead silence before Jean returned to Marco. He hadn’t connected that Marco had been bitten. He denied that the idea was even possible. It wasn’t the end. Not yet.

"Come on, you can ride on the back of Red with me. We should get going…the gun shot will alert more. I don't think I have the strength to do that again." He held his hand out to help pull his friend up, resting his other hand on his knee to steady himself. A small chuckle escaped his lips, it was misplaced and awkward.

"Jean, I can't." Marco was staring at the ground. No readable expression on his face.

"What are you saying, come on. I know you've been killing to get close to me." Jean smirked slightly, trying to lighten the mood. Marco pulled his collar down to reveal a bloody wound with clear teeth marks. The wound was gushing blood and the veins around it had already started to turn blue and purple.

"No..Marco...no. This isn't happening. No…no." He fell to the ground at his friend's feet, slamming his fist into the dirt repeatedly. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t Marco’s end yet. Marco put his free hand on Jean's shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Despite all odds, Marco forced a smile. He was always able to remain calm, even in the worst situations. Even when he was staring an inevitable death in the eyes, he was still chipper Marco. Optimistic Marco. Fuck. 

"Stand up, it makes me sad when you cry. Please stop. It'll be okay, Jean. You’ll be okay…"

"No it won't! It won't be okay…I don't want to be alone. I can't be without you!" Marco pulled his friend in for a hug before wincing in pain and falling against him. Marco’s fragile condition brought Jean back to his senses. He wiped the tears from his eyes and forced a straight face. Pessimist Jean should have planned for this. Should have known that this was the worst case scenario. His reaction was too emotional, too raw. Maybe a reaction like that would have been acceptable in the past but not anymore. Not in this cruel fucked up world.

"Marco, come on, I refuse to leave you here. Just come with me, please. We need to leave. And I'm not going without you." The cold tone was back. The bitter, angry at the world voice from before.  
"Ok, but you have to promise to shoot me when I turn.” He winced as he spoke. “I don't want to be one of those things. I don't want to hurt you..." His voice was shallow and pained. Jean didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he could keep a promise like that. He helped him climb onto the horse before climbing up as well, taking a moment to turn around and look at the man latched onto him. This wasn't good, Marco was in obviously excruciating pain. 

"Hold onto me, Marco. Don't let go. C'mon Red, let's go." He nudged the horse into a slow walk and continued down the trail they were on. A lone tear slide down Jean's cheek, once again he’d fucked up. If it hadn't been for his tremendous impatience, Marco would still be safe. He wouldn't be losing his only friend. He wouldn’t have brought on another early ending. Marco's arms were firmly wrapped around Jean's waist and his head leaning against his back. He could feel the poison flowing into his body and he suspected he didn't have much time left. The pulsing of the wound made it hard for him to focus on anything other than his impending doom. 

"Are you still alive back there...Marco..." Jean's words were cold yet sincere. He didn't know how to act any other way and Marco knew this. Marco knew exactly how much pain Jean was in right now and despite his condition was still worried about his friend more than himself.

"Yes, but I don't have much longer. I can feel it, it's getting worse. Please keep your end of the promise when the time comes. You have to end this. Okay, Jean?" He coughed in pain and squeezed Jean even tighter.

"I know, no need to keep reminding me. Don't make this any harder."

"Did you think it would end this way for me? I always saw myself making it to the end with you. But maybe this is for the best. I know that you could never feel the same way about me as I do for you. You're too proud, a loner. You're just so imperfectly strong." Marco was smiling again, despite his pain.

"I didn't want it to end this way, I don't want to lose you Marco. You don't understand. You just don't get it."

"You take care of yourself okay? Please break off this reckless streak you've been on. I don't want you to end up like this. I want you to make it to the capital, to the safe zone. It's all I wish for. My dying wish. I love you, Jean."

"I know, Marco. You've told me. Look, I'm not very good with this,” He knew Marco didn’t want to hear this but he didn’t know what to say. “I don't know what to say. Just don't give up on me yet." Marco started to get dizzy, leaning slightly to the left. Jean used his power to pull him back up. There was a faint repetitive thud coming from behind them. "Do you hear that, Marco?" When he didn't get a response, he turned around to see a very clammy Marco resting against his back. He shook him awake and once he saw that his eyes weren't bloodshot and the purple veins hadn't extended any further up his neck, he relaxed.

"What the hell is that noise?" He turned to look behind them and just as he did, a group of people rode up behind them on horses.  
"Kid, if you two value your lives you need to pick up the pace and follow me." The stranger was on a white horse, he was a very handsome blonde man, Marco would love this if he were conscious. 

Everyone in his posse looked tough. Jean pushed Red into a gallop, holding the reins in one hand and firmly grasping Marco's hands that lay on his stomach with his other hand. He followed the stranger's in a dead gallop; they encountered a couple stray walkers but no large groups that slowed them down. Any walkers along the path were quickly and accurately taken out by the group's leader. 

Behind him, was a petite man with black hair and a generally uninterested expression. He was on a black horse and he seemed to be the one they considered the village asshole. There were three more people behind him, A teenage boy with blonde hair and a slender attractive frame, a brunette boy that seemed very nervous, and lastly a beautiful Asian girl. They were a quiet group; none of them spoke until the group had reached a fence and the girl whipped off her horse and pulled the gate shut. Mounting again she looked nervously at Marco before riding up beside her commander. 

The blonde leader led the group to a large camp that had four large tents and a fire ring and dismounted his horse and tied it up. The others followed his example. Jean rode his horse closer to the group out of curiosity. He had no idea who they were but he was thankful that they had come along. At this moment, Marco's grip around Jean loosened to the point of where his immobile body crashed to the ground. In a panic, Jean slid to the ground and knelt beside Marco. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his lap.

"Come on, get up, I don't know what to think of these people...Please, you were always the good judge of character." The blonde approached now. He extended his hand to Jean, greeting him warmly. It was unusual to shake someone’s hand these days, it said a lot about his character and that may have been the point. 

" My name is Erwin. This is my group, Levi, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. What's wrong with your friend? Is he bitten?" He eyed the pair carefully, his hand never leaving his holstered pistol. He had a calm expression in his eyes, warm even. Understanding and hopeful. He wanted to help, it seemed like he was much like Marco. Caring and compassionate towards others.

"I'm Jean, and this is...this is Marco. He was bit. Is there anything I can do? I don't want to lose him…I don't know if I can lose him..." 

"There's only one thing that will help, a bullet to the head." The short man, Levi said coldly, his eyes showed his disinterest in the situation. It was no wonder that he had survived up until this point. He didn't seem to worry about a thing. An ideal attitude. Pessimism. The Jean of the group.

Erwin glanced at him before turning back, apathetically. "I'm afraid he's right. How long has it been?"

"About thirty minutes." Jean said under his breath, so quiet he didn't think anyone could hear him. 

"The longest anyone has every made it is an hour and twenty six minutes, you need to prepare yourself." His numbers were specific, he must be important somehow. 

A savior. Ironic really, if he hadn’t rushed, Marco would be saved too. 

He held his gun out for Jean to grab. "We'll let you have your privacy. I can take your horse to get some water. Remember, your friend isn't himself after he turns. You have to do it. Come find us when it's done and you're ready to discuss your future. I don't like to see anyone travel alone. They're as good as dead." The man took Red's reins and the group left the two in peace.

Jean leaned Marco up in front of him so that he was straddling him from behind. "Marco, can you hear me?" He took a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the sweat from his friend's forehead. The only noise the injured man made was a slight moan of pain. This alarmed Jean and caused him to start shaking, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

"Please don't let me do this alone. Please say something. Anything." Once again, silence filled the air. Jean thought about his future. He had dealt with the loss of the rest of his group- Annie, Connie, Sasha, Christa, Ymir. It was hard but he got over it because he had Marco. 

His reason to live was Marco, he lived for the smile that Marco gave him even when he knew he wanted to cry. The comforting affection that seemed to never run out, and the love that he often confessed to Jean no matter how many times he was shot down. He couldn't imagine a world where he couldn't turn to Marco when he needed him. A world with no middle, all ending. Tears streamed down his face with no sign of ever stopping. If Marco couldn't continue to live with him, life wasn't worth living. He was tired of barely surviving. "Marco, please. Give me a sign."

"Jean..." Jean laid his head against Marco's shoulder. He could hear the man wheezing, coughing up blood as he attempted to talk. It was the most painful thing he'd ever had to witness.

"Just know, that I love you. And I will never stop." It was time. Time to finish this. He begged for the strength to do what he knew he had to. 

He laid a kiss on the back of Marco's head and gently settled the cold steel barrel against the spot he had kissed. He shut his eyes and let his finger rest on the trigger. He reached for Marco's hand and tightened his grip on it. Jean was hyperventilating and trying to hold the tears back.

'I could always see myself making it to the end with you'....

"I love you too, Marco. I always have. M' sorry I could never tell you...M' sorry I wasn't strong enough. I love you too." If Jean could have seen the smile on Marco's face, he would have noticed the peaceful expression that followed it.

Marco Bott was gone.

Jean counted before pulling the trigger...  
1...  
2...  
3...  
Blood and brain matter splattered throughout the grass from the man's head before Jean let go of his body, letting it fall down beside him. 

Sobbing uncontrollably, his hands shaking violently as he rocked back and forth. Jean sniffled and looked at his clean hands before bringing the gun up and holding it under his chin. He imagined it, Marco's blood on his hands. The thought made him sick. He had killed the only person he cared for.

He cocked the gun hard, shuttering hard against the cold metal before closing his eyes.

"Goodbye Marco… I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill your wish, losing you was never something I could endure." A second gunshot rang throughout the valley. 

The ending…

not as sweet as the middle. 

The memories fade with the ending. 

Jean wanted to live an endless loop of middles with Marco. But never without. 

This ending wasn’t a happy one, it was a cold ending. 

A cold one yet it did end with Marco. 

Always for Marco the optimist.


End file.
